


Business As Usual

by mintalicious



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Stephen Strange, BAMF Tony Stark, Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Harley and Peter are brothers, Harley is the best older brother, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Parent Stephen Strange, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective older brother Harley, Stephen learning that he's allowed to make mistakes, Tony and Stephen being great dads to Harley and Peter, Tony learning to be a responsible boy, all of them are so precious, enemies to lover, my only medical knowledge is greys anatomy im sorry, peter is super cute, slow-burn, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintalicious/pseuds/mintalicious
Summary: (Alternate Universe because endgame made me real sad)Stephen Strange is a successful neurosurgeon and an even more successful CEO. After a revelation that cuts his medical career short- he turns to business, erecting a new medical empire full of innovation and miracles. Yet, nothing can fill the void of surgery which he refuses to return to.Tony Stark runs the largest tech conglomerate in the world- flashing his money and charming grins at the camera whenever he has the chance. He quickly learns that he has a problem- a big one, that only one doctor in the world can fix, and it just happens to be the asshole that he punched and got punched back at the last gala he attended.Now he just has to find a way to hate the doctor a little less.And the doctor has to try his best to follow the oath he took around the engineer.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Loki/Thor, Christine Palmer/Pepper Potts, Harley Keener & Shuri, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff/Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes (background), Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you hate me?” Tony asked. There was no pain behind his voice- a genuine question that startled Stephen.
> 
> The man sat, pondering the question over and over in his head.
> 
> “You’re the opposite of everything I stand for,” Stephen replied, thoughtful. The doctor could tell by the silence that the engineer wanted a much more thorough answer. Stephen shrugged to himself- there was a high chance they would die from this, so what was stopping him from saying everything on his mind?
> 
> ...
> 
> In which the two CEO's are in a sticky situation but don't end up punching each other. Their children panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few things to note on:
> 
> 1\. Peter is Stephen's adopted kid. Harley is Tony's adopted kid.  
> 2\. The Ancient One's name is Tilda Swinton (the name of her actress) since she doesn't really have a name that we know of.  
> 3\. This is going to be decently slow burn (they got a lot of shit to work out before being able to enter a healthy relationship)  
> 4\. Idk if any of you have every watched Greys Anatomy but that is my only source of medical knowledge (wHoOps).  
> 5\. For those who have watched Greys Anatomy- Stephen is kind of does the same thing as Harper Avery after he stops doing surgery. Stephen essential starts a foundation dedicated to medicine (it'll be further explained in the story).  
> 6\. Peter is 15 (turning 16) and Harley is 18.
> 
> A quick reminder that there are time stamps between cuts within the story. Although it doesn't really matter all that much, I think it helps to know the amount of time between events. For me, it just helps me keep track of the flow while writing.
> 
> Yeah, that's it- enjoy :)
> 
> p.s this story is pretty dialogue heavy

Tuesday, March 24th. 20:05pm.

“Stark.”

“Strange.”

The air around the two tuxedo clad men crackled with electricity- not exactly the good kind.

Paparazzi and guests alike could see the absolute loathing in the sets of blue and brown eyes, both looking like they couldn’t wait to be as far away from each other as possible.

Snaps of cameras still sounded in the room, but no one could even think to breath. The last time either of them had attended the same gala, one ended up with a black eye and the other one with a busted lip.

The crowd watched with anticipation as the two businessmen stared each other down, waiting for something to happen- many tabloid reporters crossing their fingers for more fists to be thrown. Those stories always ended up headlining.

Both men seemed to relent at the same time- Tony Stark offering his hand to Stephen Strange. They shook (quite firmly) and parted ways like nothing had happened.

“Well that was anti-climactic,” a reporter muttered, mildly disappointed at the lack of reaction from either egotistical CEO’s. The rest of the reporters agreed.

Stephen Strange grumbled lowly under his breath, downing a champagne glass as Christine Palmer approached- a somewhat satisfied smile on her red lips. She settled down in the bar stool next to him, plucking his second champagne glass out of his hand before he even had a chance to taste it.

“Thank you for not tossing anyone into the E.R today. I’m proud that you’ve finally found a sense of impulse control,” Christine said, amused yet still very _very_ tiredly.

The blue eyed doctor scoffed, glancing down at the expensive watch that decorated his left wrist. “I took an oath. Just the thought of that was the only thing keeping me back from dislocating his jaw,” Stephen quipped back easily, stealing back the champagne Christine had taken.

She rolled her eyes, and Stephen could see she was straining not to give him his second black eye this month. He probably should stop trying to provoke her.

“You know how hard it is to wrangle paparazzi into not writing horribly crazy stories about you. Even with a very large P.R team. Sucker-punching the CEO of Stark Industries did not help,” Christine replied with a frown.

In Stephen’s defense, that hadn’t been the goal when he’d stepped out of his matte black Lamborghini Sian and onto the red carpet that night. In fact, he had been in a good mood. His adoptive son was nailing all his classes, the twenty hour surgery patient he’d had made it through the night in the ICU; even the news of his P.A Christine getting engaged a few days ago (though she had refused to tell him who her significant other was- in fear of him digging through her personal life) had inspired him enough to pop open a bottle of Chardonnay.

His past week had felt like bliss.

Until the moronic face of Anthony Stark appeared from behind an obnoxiously glossy red Rolls Royce Sweptail- playfully glinting brown eyes behind the rims of his sunglasses; winking at the crowd of single women and men with a smirk. He carried himself with unequivalent charm that possessed everyone and everything around him.

Everyone except Stephen.

Even Christine Palmer- his very dedicated and hardworking personal assistant swooned a little when Tony Stark winked at her, because only Tony Stark could make a recently engaged woman want to jump him.

Stephen couldn’t focus on the engineer for long, having to swim his way through his own share of fans. He wouldn’t truly tell anyone, but he secretly loved the attention.

“Dr. Strange- it hasn’t even been two hours yet, you can’t leave now.” Christine chided, catching him taking several peeks at his watch.

Stephen merely sighed in defeat, tucking his watch back under the sleeve of his tuxedo suit.

“Would you make my life easier and go mingle with the crowd? We wouldn’t want another Starlight Gala 2016 happening again.”

The doctor opened his mouth to argue but closed it when he thought better of himself. Christine was right (as always) being anti-social always got the media and critics harping on him for thinking he was above talking to people- which wasn’t true, but he wasn’t about to go tell everyone he was an introvert.

“Fine.”

Christine walked away to make her rounds. It was important for her to make connections with every possible person in this room. One day or another, they could prove to be useful, and Stephen certainly wasn't willing to do it.

“Dr. Strange, how surprising to see you showing up at one of these.”

He whirled around at the familiar voice, a smirk appearing on his face in recognition.

“Ancient One, I can say the same about you,” Stephen snarked. They grinned at each other for a moment, before embracing casually.

“Nice to see you again Tilda.” Stephen said as they pull apart, a smile of fondness on his face. It was rare for his mentor and friend to come out of her labs to one of these pompous events. ‘ _It ruins the art of medicine._ ’ She declared when he had asked her about it.

“I’m assuming that personal assistant of yours made you come?” Tilda asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Apparently I haven’t met my quota for galavanting around to these self-indulgent galas,” Stephen lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Tilda nodded in agreement.

“You could always join Wong and I out in Nepal you know? You would have no obligations to attend these things every other week. We’re working on-“

Stephen raised his hand, stopping her from telling him. “Please don’t, if you tell me I’m just going to want to go even more.”

She smirked, amused at the man’s antics. Tilda swore she would honestly never try to understand Stephen Strange. He was a surgical monster with an ego to fit the title yet it had been nearly five years since the last time the man donned his surgical gown and glove.

Despite the big head, and the even bigger personality from all the praise from medical journals- Stephen never became overconfident in his abilities. Of course the man bragged and showed off his many awards and trophies, but at the end of the day, Dr. Strange was meticulous and incredibly focused.

His love for surgical innovation had always been pure- even after he’d gotten famous. Tilda would always admire that about the man; even when the fame and money had gotten to his head, they never were able to touch adoration he had for surgery.

She would never tell him that though.

“Did you bring Wong with you tonight? Or is he at a Beyonce concert?” Stephen asked, snapping her away from her thoughts. She laughed at the suggestion of her stone-faced lab partner dancing in the crowd of hyped concert-attendees and prancing along to the music.

“He’s talking to Karl right now- I think last I saw them, they were talking about an inoperable tumour.”

That had gotten Stephen’s attention.

“Where is he? Does he have the scans on him?” Stephen asked despite himself. He could already see the knowing smile forming on his mentor’s face before he had the chance to retract his two previous statements. Shit.

“I’m afraid Karl will only show the scans to doctors who still operate,” she replied smoothly, ignoring the increasing frown on Stephen’s face.

“That’s playing dirty and you know it,” Stephen quipped, with no real bite behind it. Tilda always seemed to know how to drive him up a wall and he very much did not appreciate it. She didn’t seem to care.

“You’re going to have to tell me one of these days why you decided to abruptly retire your _dream_ job.”

Stephen sighed, pushing the thought of the papers he’d found.

“I’m perfectly content to be doing what I’m doing now,” Stephen replied. Of course he was still thoroughly involved in the world of medicine. He ran a successful multi-million dollar company designated to researching the human brain, engineering cutting edge medical technology, and fundraising medical trials. Currently, he had started discussing new prosthetics with Karl Mordo. He even owned Metro-General Hospital, plus a few others within New York City.

Stephen was happy- more than happy even. Despite now, being a very busy businessman, he had more time to just relax, more than he did as a surgeon, at the very least. Plus, it meant he was getting more time to spend with his son.

Peter seemed to gush in all the new attention he was receiving; so everything was good.

“I know you are,” Tilda said quietly, seemingly deep in thought, “I’m glad you have more time to spend with that boy of yours.”

The thought of the young energetic teenager brought an endearing smile to Stephen’s face.

His mentor was promptly called away by a group of scientists who needed a second opinion on something- Stephen didn’t catch the rest, focused on his energetic son.

He should call Peter. Stephen knew he wouldn’t be home until later that night so he had sent the young boy over to Ned’s house so the teen wouldn’t be lonely.

Stephen was already reaching for his phone during the thought when the floor collapsed from under him and the ceiling caved in from a top. He heard a noise that deafened his ears, ringing and pounding in his head- then screams of the people around him ensued. And then nothing.

…

20:39pm.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark- over here!”

Tony grinned cheekily for the bright flashes that would be blinding if not for his gold-tinted glasses. He waved at the camera- winking at a few, blowing kisses to a few others.

“Step aside, let him through!”

Happy Hogan, as diligent as ever. The man was practically jumping around to keep the hands of Tony’s adoring fan base off of his very expensive tux.

Pepper Potts trailed a little further back, keeping her careful hawk-like gaze at the people Tony was passing. She really, really needed to make sure that her boss did not run into a very particular doctor.

Although Tony hadn’t known it, Pepper coordinated with Doctor Stephen Strange’s own personal assistant to try to keep the two overgrown babies out of each other’s hair as much as possible.

Yet, luck never seemed to like being on her side.

The moment they had entered the lobby, Stephen Strange and his gorgeously confusing blue eyes had almost bumped into Tony. They two stared down for what seemed like an infinite amount time.

Pepper had caught the eye of Christine Palmer, who gestured with her head and mouthed ‘ _seperate them!_ ’.

Quickly, Pepper had subtly kicked Tony’s shin, bringing him out of whatever hate-filled dream he was having about Stephen Strange. The man, (thank the gods) had even offered Stephen his hand- though it was definitely not out of good-will.

Even attention hogging Tony Stark has had his share of the tabloids gluing his and Stephen Strange’s showdown on every surface of the media.

“He just has a really punchable face, y’know?”

“Uh huh.”

“-plus, have you ever listened to him when he opens his mouth? Like, who does the guy think he is-“

“Uh huh.”

“And- are you even listening to me?”

Tony looked at Pepper, unamused by the lack of attention to his rant. The woman was checking through something on her clipboard, entirely unaware of what he’d been saying.

“No, I stopped listening the moment you said something along the lines of ‘who the hell has the last name Strange? And why is his name an alliteration?’”

Tony pouted, picking up two glasses of wine off of one of the waiters carrying a tray around. He offered Pepper one of them, to which she politely declined. So he promptly gave the glass to a woman passing them.

“Look, Mr. Stark, I really only need one thing from you tonight and it is to NOT get into a fight with Dr. Strange. Better yet, avoid him it all costs,” Pepper reminded, a stern look crossing her sharp features.

“Don’t worry about it Ms. Potts, I’d rather get crushed by a building than trying to have a civil conversation with the man. Plus, Harley would not stop giving me shit for it- can you believe that my son is a snarky little twat- I mean, where did he get all that attitude from?”

Pepper didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or tell Tony that there was only one other person in Harley Keener Stark’s life that could match the little troll in a spitfire match. The kid was sharp- she’ll give him that- but it didn’t make him any less annoying, especially with the brazen influence his father was having on him.

“Just, go do your thing, and avoid Dr. Strange.”

Tony watched as she walked off, Louboutins clicking on the floor as she melded away with the crowd. The engineer grumbled beneath his breath, combing through the waves of people that wanted to talk to him.

“Brucie!”

He grinned brightly at his fellow scientist lounging by the bar. The man wore a black suit with a purple undershirt, forgoing the tie. It was refreshing to see Bruce Banner in anything else than his typical shaggy sweaters and trousers.

“Tony, good to see you.”

They greeted each other with a friendly hug and a pat on the back.

“What have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen you in New York for months,” Tony said, plopping himself onto one of the bar stools.

“I took a trip to Malaysia, I just needed to get away from the public after the whole thing with Ross went down.”

Tony nodded in recognition. The “whole thing with Ross” had frankly been a mess, especially for Bruce, who broke down in the middle of it all.

“How are you now? Feeling like you want to go create some explosions in a lab?” Tony asked, trying to lighten the mood. Bruce chuckled softly, picking up the glass of whiskey sliding over to him.

“The last time we created an explosion in the lab Steve was not happy, and as much as I love watching you making things go boom I’d rather not have to sit and get lectured at again.”

“Fair enough.”

Both men grinned at each other, knowing looks passing through their eyes. Tony smiled fondly at Bruce Banner, the man- despite many thinking otherwise- knew how to have a little fun here and there.

Neither looked up when a red headed woman strutted up to their little corner at the bar, attracting the attention of many men who she passed.

The smell of her luxury perfume wafted into Tony’s noise, plus sounds of her black heels stopping behind the two men gave Natasha Romanoff away.

“You boys getting in trouble without me?” She asked, voice alluringly gentle. God, this woman knew how to play a man.

“We would never,” Tony replied, turning his eyes from his drink to the gorgeous lawyer who grabbed the nearly empty glass of wine from Tony’s hand.

“I’m disappointed Stark-“ she said, eyeing the glass carefully, “-I don’t remember you being a wimpy drinker.”

Tony laughed at the mere suggestion of him not being able to hold a drink. The man practically lived on alcohol- only recently toning it down after a very emotional heart-to-heart with Harley.

“Don’t get him started Nat, we really don’t need another Malibu to Tennessee birthday party happening,” Bruce chided. Both of them smiled at the memory while Tony simply cringed at the disaster that was his 29th birthday.

“I don’t appreciate being called out like that,” Tony grumbled, much to the amusement of his friends. “Plus, jokes on you, I got a kid out of that birthday party.”

"Your point being?" Bruce quipped, laughing at Tony punching his arm.

Natasha scoffed amusedly, turning away from them to order a drink.” Whiskey. Neat.”

Bruce stared at the woman while Tony let out a low whistle. Natasha seemed to bristle.

“Yikes, what’s up Romanoff?” Tony asked, both men staring at her in anticipation.

“Nothing is ‘up’. I just want a drink- some of us can still hold our liquor, believe it or not,” she replied smoothly, picking up the drink and taking a long sip. Bruce and Tony watched, eyebrows raised.

“Whiskey is your ‘I’m willing to get alcohol poisoning and die’ drink. Who’s breaking your heart this time? Is it Steve? I bet it’s Steve, it’s always Steve-“

Bruce very cleverly covered Tony’s mouth, effectively shutting him up before he said something Natasha would punch the man for. She sighed tiredly, seemingly giving up on denying his accusation against her boyfriend.

“Yeah, it’s been a rough few weeks.”

Bruce placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, nodding in understanding. “ Do you want to rant about it? We can ditch this place for movie night and take out,” Bruce offered. Natasha shook her head taking another strong sip of her drink.

“You guys came here to enjoy yourself. Plus, I don’t need to be coddled,” she replied, downing the rest of her drink. Wow.

“You can tell us whatever, Nat. We’re all pretty fucked up in this friend group,” Tony said, glancing at Bruce who returned his look in concern.

The lawyer shrugged, plopping herself down on the seat between the two men, ready to spill her guts.

“Steve’s boyfriend from his military years was found. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes- a war prisoner. Honestly I think I’m just being paranoid but those guys went through literal _war_ together; that’s pretty hard to compete with,” she began, leaning against the bar counter top, head lolling back with exhaustion.

“Steve Rogers is the straightest man alive and you’re telling me he shacked up with a guy? Steve Rogers? Captain America- are you sure we’re thinking about the same person here? Not that I'm judging him, I'm bi myself- but like that man? I like to think I have a decently accurate gaydar and...” Tony trailed off

Natasha glared at the brunet, ignoring the small laugh coming from Bruce.

“Right, right. Not the point,” Tony smiled sheepishly as Bruce smacked the back of his head in reprimand.

“Anyways, long story short I brought it up with Steve and he’s denying any possible lingering feelings he might have- which is total bullshit. The man looks at James Barnes like the man cured cancer.”

Bruce gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, a sympathetic smile on his face. Natasha returned the look with a sad smile of her own, eyes glazing over ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear that Nat. It’ll work out one way or another,” Bruce offered, aware that his words didn’t really bring any comfort at all.

Tony didn’t dare open his mouth, in fear of saying something to set the poor woman off. Although many would agree he had a way with words, it was mostly used for getting people into bed or getting out of trouble.

So he offered her silent motivation.

“How’s Harley these days? The kid is graduating this year right?” Natasha asked, changing the subject before the silence went on too long for comfort.

Tony immediately brightened at the mention of his snarky twat of a son- smiling fondly at the mention of the kid.

“He’s been asking why auntie Nat hasn’t visited him in over a month,” Tony quickly replied, excited to ramble on about the most important person in his life.

Natasha rolled her eyes at the response but grinned nonetheless.

“-and yes he’s graduating this year with his first degree, can’t believe he’s only eighteen. It reminds me of when I did that, although the kid would rather go to Harvard Med than becoming an engineer at MIT, traitor, ” Tony mumbled.

“I’ve got some pull at Harvard. The kid is following the right footsteps,” Bruce said, earning him a glare from Tony who did not look impressed.

“I can’t believe he’d rather go to the school of some lame scientist than his own awesome father,” Tony grumbled. Bruce laughed as Natasha shook her head fondly.

“Actually, speaking of which, I should call him. I left some money on the counter and specifically told him not to order any junk food but the brat never listens to me,” Tony said, pulling out his prototype StarkPhone.

“Sounds like someone I know,” Natasha quipped. Tony ignored her, moving away from the bar and off to the side where no one would disturb him.

The phone rang through his ear.

It took three beeps for his kid to pick up.

“Hey loser, what do you want?” The voice from the other side picked up, not hesitating to throw insults Tony’s way.

“Just making sure you aren’t being stupid brat. Did you see the hundred I left?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you read the note?”

“No.”

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should’ve known better than to trust Harley to develop healthy habits- the boy was Tony’s son after all.

“I’m letting you off this time. But only because you’re cute.”

He heard Harley gagging through the phone. It brought an even wider smile to his face.

“Ugh, please stop being gross.”

“I change my mind, you aren’t forgiven,” Tony said, a fun idea popping into his mind.

“Oh c’mon, I said I was sorry,” Harley replied, a childish whine to his voice.

“No you didn’t.”

The kid sighed. It had worked once on Tony, it would not work again.

“You know what would make me happy enough to forgive you?” Tony asked, a teasing tone that he could tell made his kid shrivel up inside.

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please? I’ll pawn you to an orphanage if you don’t.”

Harley groaned in frustration, loud enough that Tony had pull his phone away from his ear.

“I love you 3000,” the kid mumbled, almost incoherent.

Deciding to refain from teasing the already tormented teen any further, Tony merely chuckled.

“I love you too kid-“

The loud rumble shook the floor, and before Tony could look up, the ceiling cracked and the floor caved.

“- Tony? Tony! DAD!”

His phone fell from his hand as the ground disappeared from under him, consuming him in agonizing darkness.

…

21:15pm.

“Let me through, let me through- please!”

Peter Parker Strange clawed at the arms of the police that surrounded the rubble of once was a fifteen story building.

Panic and fear wedged itself pitifully in the pits of his stomach, and he could only beg and beg to be let through.

“Please… my dad is in there…”

His voice cracked, a heart-wrenching sob cutting through any pleas that died on his tongue. The young teen crumpled onto the floor, his heart pounding so fiercely against his chest, he thought his ribcage would crack.

He was ignored, buried underneath the onslaught of people who scrambled forward, watching the crumbled building in horror.

Peter was suddenly yanked sideways, narrowly avoiding a stampede of shoes, flashing across his eyes.

“Are you an idiot dude? Don’t fucking sit in the middle of the crowd- you have a death wish or something?”

Peter looked up, finding a taller teenager staring down at him in mild annoyance, and possible amusement, but behind all that, Peter could scope out the genuine terror under his icy blue eyes.

“S-sorry,” he managed to stammer out, feeling very intimidated by his supposed saviour.

“Why the hell are you apologizing?” The boy retorted with a scoff, offering his hand out to Peter, which the latter took gratefully, fully aware of how he was almost half a head taller.

“Thank you,” Peter said, trying to muster up some sort of smile- which hadn’t worked out since he could feel his bottom lip trembling again, ready for waterfalls to spurt out of his eyes.

The shorter boy seemed to take notice, quickly opening his mouth to say something- saving Peter from the embarrassment of crying to a stranger.

“The name’s Harley, you?”

“Peter,” he replied quickly, his voice ever-so-slightly higher than normal.

Harley nodded, regarding Peter with a cool-calculated look, before returning his attention back to the collapsed building burning before them.

“You got someone in there?” Harley asked, voice- although still cool- wavered the slightest bit.

“Yeah, uh, my dad. Stephen.” Peter replied, trying not to think about the possibility that he wouldn’t have the chance to call the man his dad anymore.

The shorter teen nodded once, then did a double take.

“Dude! I’m pretty sure your dad gave my dad a busted lip,” Harley exclaimed, strangely excited about the aspect of his father getting socked in the face.

“Wait… Tony Stark? That’s your father?” Peter gaped at the other boy, trying to search for any distinct features that could possibly tie him to being a Stark. Nope.

“Yeah, funny story actually. I shot a potato gun at him when we first met.”

Harley’s eyes seemed to glaze over at the memory, looking nostalgically wistful at the thought. Peter could feel some part of his heart softening for the boy- he was just like Peter, a lost kid who found a parent.

“My dad removed a brain tumour from my head the first time I met him,” Peter said. Harley looked over at him like he had grown two heads.

“Weird way to met someone,” the latter muttered, eyes not once wavering from the heap that was the former building.

“I can’t live without him- he… he saved me,” Peter whispered, almost too quiet for Harley to hear.

“Me too.”

…

21:42pm.

The first thing he felt was complete and utter agony, rippling through every nerve under his skin- setting his blood on fire.

He couldn’t move- could hardly even breath. It felt like his lungs were being crushed by millions of boulders.

The first thing he could see was absolute darkness- the horrifying kind that made you feel like you didn’t know up from down. The second thing he saw was a large boulder, crushing him underneath it.

Well that explained the whole lack of air thing.

His vision danced around black and white spots, blurring and refocusing back into reality like a camera lense. He quickly realized he could hardly feel anything from the waist down.

That was bad.

“Stark?”

The voice was familiar, it activated a self-defense mechanism Tony had spent so long cultivating. Even while in the worst pain he had felt in his entire life, he still managed to snark a reply. “That’s me, last I checked anyways.”

Tony could practically feel Stephen Strange rolling those confusing green-blue eyes into the next dimension over, and he has the better mind to not antagonize the man anymore.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that incapacitated them both, spots of black still looming in and out of view. He could see Stephen Strange’s frame, and the barest angles of his face. The broken electrical wires sparked around him and he could hear small streams of water running all around him.

“I can’t see you very well, are you okay?” Stephen asked, moving tentatively closer to him. Tony held back the urge to scream at the man that - _no_ he was very not okay.

“I’m sort of stuck under a big ol’ piles of rocks, so just peachy Strange,” Tony snapped, holding back as much sarcasm as he could. He expected Stephen to whip an insult or a dry remark back at him but the man doesn’t. Stephen simply nodded.

“How much of your body is covered? I need to know so I can assess the damage,” Stephen questioned. Tony tried twisting his upper body to look at where his legs were covered but every time he tried to move, a sharp burning pain shot through his core.

“I can’t really turn to see, but um- my legs, I can’t really feel them,” Tony said, grimacing at the fear that laced his voice. He could only hope Stephen couldn’t tell how afraid he was.

Whatever the doctor’s reaction to his situation was, Tony couldn’t see it, and Stephen’s voice gave nothing away when he spoke.

“Alright. I’m going to go see if I can find some source of light around here, and I’ll come back to help you, okay?”

The brunet could feel a rush of panic surging through him, and if he could lunge forward and grip Stephen’s hand, begging him to not leave Tony alone in the darkness, he would.

“W-wait!” Tony shouted. He could see Stephen’s silhouette pausing at his cry, turning around to look at him.

“Um, uh- you can’t- you can’t leave me. Please- I know you don’t like me but I can’t be alone. Please,” he stammered, his last word a whisper that he hoped Stephen had heard. There was silence, and Tony despairingly thought the doctor had left him already.

“Okay- okay, yeah. I won’t go- I’ll be right here.” Stephen said, softly.

There was a sympathetic tone to his voice that Tony hated, but he could feel himself hating the pompous doctor just a little less as the man sat down to the side, leaning against a piece of concrete.

The silence between the two of them was deafening, almost soul crushing. For a moment Tony wondered why he hated Stephen Strange so much.

His brain was definitely muddled right now- there was no way he was truly questioning his hatred for Dr. Strange. The man was an egotistical asshole, who believed the world revolved around him, and that everyone was beneath his attention- and yes, that does sound oddly familiar, but Tony had never once claimed that he liked himself.

Perhaps that was why Stephen irked him so tremendously. He was staring into himself, watching his reflection in a mirror and he can’t help but hate everything about it.

Maybe Tony ought to give Stephen a little more credit.

“Why do you hate me?” Tony asked. There was no pain behind his voice- a genuine question that startled Stephen.

The man sat, pondering the question over and over in his head.

“You’re the opposite of everything I stand for,” Stephen replied, thoughtful. The doctor could tell by the silence that the engineer wanted a much more thorough answer. Stephen shrugged to himself- there was a high chance they would die from this, so what was stopping him from saying everything on his mind?

“I am a doctor, Stark. And I am well aware that you are one too. But unlike you, my doctorate required me to take an oath- ‘first, do no harm’. That saying isn’t actually part of the Hippocratic Oath but I follow it anyways,” Stephen began, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. Tony was silent.

“I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty-“ Stephen recited, the words ingrained into his memory.

“-Above all, I must not play at God.”

Even with Stephen’s oddly calming voice- Tony could feel the sudden pressure against his heart, his consciousness bubbling with words he ignored. A small dark part of his mind felt tinged with resentment.

“I’ve already broken that oath, simply by taking it,” Stephen murmured just loud enough for Tony to hear.

“Every day, as I tie my surgical mask and lace my surgical gown I am playing god. The moment I step into the hospital I am playing god. When my scalpel is picking apart the brains of those who need me to, I am playing god.”

The doctor said it all so wistfully Tony could hear how broken he sounded. The engineer could feel the doctor’s regret and nostalgia wafting over from where he sat.

“We are not ordinary men, you and I. The moment a person has a heart attack on the side of the street, I am responsible for that life. The second a patient stumbles into the E.R, I am responsible for that life. The minute it takes for a Stark Industries bomb to go off, you are responsible for those lives.”

Tony stared at him, despite not being able to see him very well, dumbstruck by the casual accusation against him. He built weapons to protect his country- his people. To protect Peter and Pepper and Rhodey. How could this self-serving asshole tell him that it was his fault lives were being lost. He didn’t fire those missiles.

“You might be too big-headed to see it now, but you have hand in the deaths of those who end up in my hospitals due to a shrapnel wound. It honestly would be easier to hate you if you were a bad person but you aren’t. I don’t know you at all, but at the very least I can tell that.”

“Then who the hell do you think you are to judge me? I never fired those missiles- those weren’t my kills, I am not a murderer, Strange,” Tony hissed, wanting more than anything to be able to squeeze of life out of the man that sat opposite of him.

“I don’t blame you, and I am not accusing you of murdering people. It’s the same thing as someone firing a gun at someone I love- I would find the trigger finger, not the trigger itself. But I would recognize that the trigger was created and placed in the trigger finger, locked and loaded- ready to go,” Stephen countered. He sounded tired in a way Tony couldn’t understand.

“You aren’t firing the missiles or the canons, you aren’t even there to know what decision is being made- but you placed it there, you placed the missiles into the hands of ordinary men and you allowed them to play god.”

Tony could feel the disbelief surging through his brain. The part that of him that was Tony Stark, son of Howard Stark felt indignant, vision clouded in chaotic fury. Yet, the part of him that hated the standards his father had instilled in him- the part that had been making Stephen Strange’s argument in his head for decades- overshadowed by the pressure of living up to his father’s expectations.

That part of him felt relieved- someone had finally told his egocentric self outright that he had a hand in the deaths of thousands at war- that he needed for once in his life to take responsibility for something greater than him.

His head hurt, both sides clashing in a heated debate. Tony didn’t trust himself not to either cry or throw something at Stephen so he did nothing.

The doctor seemed to have taken notice at Tony’s heavy silence, deciding not to further agitate the man.

The air hung with a mixture of guilt and resignment, neither knowing how to break it.

…

22:26pm.

“I can’t believe you’re three years younger than me, how the hell did you get so tall?” Harley asked, glancing up and down the height of a very nervous Peter Strange.

They had both been escorted to Peter’s friend Ned’s house by the friend’s mother. Harley had been sure that the woman would quickly just leave with Peter but the motherly woman had insisted on Harley coming back with them. The March air was still chilly enough to bite his skin and he really hadn’t wanted to sit at his father’s large penthouse alone, so he agreed.

The three of them were seated in Ned’s room, all sipping on some hot chicken noodle soup Ned’s mother had prepared. Harley would never admit to it, but he prefered it to the box of pizza he was about to chow down on earlier in the evening.

“You should’ve seen him in elementary, he looked like a walking stick compared to the rest of us,” Ned said, taking a noisy slurp of the broth.

Peter rolled his eyes, keeping his hand tightly wrapped around the bowl yet since the moment they had gotten it Peter hadn’t taken a single bite.

Their conversation was kept light, the three teens dancing around the subject that was looming over them all.

“Yo Harley, Peter and I were going to build the model of the Death Star from legos- you wanna give us a hand?” Ned asked as he went to pull the box out from under his bed.

Peter’s phone started ringing and the boy jumped at it like it was his life line, he seemed to deflate a little at the caller I.D before picking up.

“Hey Shuri, did you need something?”

Harley couldn’t make out the words of the person on the other end of the call but he could make out distressed talking and panicked blabbering.

“Oh- yeah, I’m at Ned’s, I’ll ask if you can come over.”

Peter glanced over at his shorter friend who nodded vigorously- excited to have more people around.

“He’s okay with it- you know where the house is right? Yeah, okay. I’ll see you soon.”

When the call ended, both Ned and Harley raised a questioning eyebrow at Peter who looked a little more worried than before.

“T’Challa, Shuri’s older brother was in… he was at the gala. He’s in there right now, under all that rubble with my dad- and oh my _god_ my dad is there right now, he left at 8:00PM in the Lamborghini he won’t let me drive, and he isn’t here. He’s not here because he’s at that building, he’s being crushed by a building- he probably died because _A BUILDING COLLAPSED ONTO HIM_.”

Before Ned could even react, Harley had jumped forward, clutching Peter’s hands tightly, rubbing smooth circles on the back of his hand- keeping a steady pressure on them.

The younger boy’s breathing was erratic and the tears were free-flowing down his face. Anymore words the boy might’ve had was abruptly cut off by his body shaking with sobs.

“Dude- Peter, you need to listen to me you tall stick man. I need you to breath with me, breath in and count to five, okay? Ready?”

Harley wasn’t even sure the crying teen could hear him, but he watched as Peter’s chest expanded with air, trying his best to utter out numbers before breathing back out.

It felt like hours went by as the younger breathed, and breathed, and breathed, over and over again like clockwork.

By the time the mysterious Shuri and shown up at the door, Peter’s chest was steady, still sniffling, eyes red-rimmed, matching that of the girl who bursted into the room.

Harley could feel the sinking wait of his heart wanting to plummet to his stomach. It was as if the two of them had given up the thought that perhaps their loved ones were still alive, but he wouldn’t let it get to him. Tony taught him better than that.

_”You always gotta remember kid, science is always about proof and facts. Someone tells you something you don’t know? You don’t believe them until you can confirm it for yourself with proof and facts. Even if they tell you something so believable that it feels like it’s a 99.99% chance of truth and a 0.01% chance that it isn’t- you don’t stop until it’s a 100%.”_

He could hear his father’s cheeky yet gentle voice in his head. There wasn’t a one-hundred percent chance that Tony Stark was dead and he wouldn’t believe it until he saw the mans’ corpse.

“Stop crying,” he commanded loudly, catching the attention of the three other people in the room. Shuri looked at him in confusion, momentarily stopping, wiping the stray tears away with the palm of her hand.

She opened her mouth but he cut her off.

“Tell me with 100% certainty that you know your brother is dead,” he stated, his blue eyes matching hers- challenging her to say something. She doesn’t.

“And you-“ He pointed an accusing finger at Peter who looked startled to be addressed so brazenly.

“Tell me Stephen Strange is dead. Tell me I will never get to meet him. Tell me my dad and your dad won’t ever get to punch each other again,” Harley looked at him fiercely and he seemed to shrivel up without an answer.

“You nerds don’t get to cry because I don’t get to cry. I don’t get to cry until I’m weeping over the dead body of my father and begging him to be alive. So neither of you losers get to sob about this until you know with the utmost certainty that their hearts have stopped pumping blood through their veins.”

All three of them looked at him like he had grown five more heads and a few more fingers, but ultimately Peter nodded, a new look of determination crossing his features. Shuri- the type of girl who looked like she never backed down from a challenge sat up straighter.

“That was pretty gruesome,” Ned said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. They all bursted out laughing- hearts still heavy, but hopeful.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Hello, is this Harley Stark?”
> 
> “Yes, it is. Who are you?”
> 
> ”My name is Zola Shepherd, I am a doctor at Metro-General hospital in New York. You are listed as Anthony Stark’s emergency contact- am I correct to presume that’s you?”
> 
> His heart pounded, anticipation beating along with it. His lungs tightened and squeezed and for a second he forgot how to breathe.
> 
> “Yes, that’s me- have they found him? Is he okay? Is he… is he alive?”
> 
> The woman on the other line paused before replying.
> 
> “Would you be able to come down to the hospital?- I can explain everything better here.”
> 
> ...
> 
> In which Peter and Harley are worried over their dads. Stephen is worried about his friends. Peter is worried about Harley.

Wednesday, March 25th. 8:13am.

Stephen didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there. It felt like both an eternity and a few minutes are passing all at the same time, he estimated more than seven hours.

He can make out Tony Stark on the ground, half covered in rocks and concrete- the only thing that indicated the man was still alive was his haggard breathing. 

Every part of him that was a doctor wanted to get the man into an O.R as soon as possible, every minute longer they sit in the dark hole was another moment there would be irreparable damage to the man’s legs- among other things.

Stephen sighed in annoyance, the quiet between them slowly agitating him more and more. If there was one thing Stephen couldn’t stand, it was awkward silence.

“You have a kid right?” Stephen asked, desperate to fill the space with any kind of noise, even if meant having to converse with one of the men he hated most in the world.

“Yeah…” Came Tony’s unusually soft reply. “Yeah- I do.”

He could hear the sadness rooted deep within the man’s gentle tone- it made his heart ache in equal sympathy and understanding. There was a possibility that he’d never see Peter again.

“Harley- his name is Harley. He’s a brat and I would give him the world if I could,” Tony spoke, a sweetness to his voice Stephen hadn’t heard before.

“Sounds like a lucky kid,” Stephen replied, leaning his head back against the cold concrete behind him, eyes closed- feeling so very tired.

“I think I’m the lucky one- being able to meet a kid like that.”

Stephen silently agreed with the statement, his own thoughts filled with bright memories of a grinning curly-haired kid, eyes glinting at him from a hospital bed.

“How’d you meet him?” Stephen continued asking- he needed something to keep his focus on.

“It’s a strange story-“ Tony began, ignoring the huff of annoyance that came his way, “-but I’m sure you’re used to those.”

“Ha. Ha. Original, Stark.”

Stephen could hear the smile in Tony’s voice as the latter began speaking.

“It was my 29th birthday party, thrown in my Malibu mansion. I was pretty drunk before the thing began, so to be honest, I can’t give anyone a straight answer about what happened that night. I tried asking those who attended what the hell happened but no one there that night could give me a straight answer either.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

“Rhodes says that I stripped and tried to pole dance, with him as the pole. Pepper says I spent the night trying to get her to give me her bra- so that I could wear it. Nat says I parachuted from the roof of my house into the ocean with her, and Bruce claims that I drew up some schematics for a suit made out of gold titanium alloy with him- which I tried finding the blueprints for because that sounds awesome.”

“Did you find it?”

“…no, but I vaguely remember something about thrusters for some reason, and an element called Badassium designed to power something.”

“Figures…” Stephen mumbled. Only Tony Stark would have figured out a way to have done all those things in one night and completely forget it.

“None of that really matters though, because when I woke up in the morning, I was in Tennessee.”

Stephen scoffed incredulously at the statement, and Tony felt mildly offended. He couldn’t explain exactly how that happened but he had an adopted snarky teenager as proof.

“The cold was freezing my ass off- and it would be a crime against the world for this glorious ass to get hypothermia, so I snuck into some dinky shack I found.

“You do know that your ‘glorious ass’ is getting crushed by a pile of rocks right now,” Stephen snarked, unable to refrain himself.

Tony’s laughter is surprisingly delightful, and he felt it grounding him to reality just a little more. He must really be out of it.

“I really don’t think I need a reminder,” Tony replied, voice still ringing with laughter.

“Anyway, some kid in the shack shot a potato gun at me and guilt tripped me into adopting him. The end.”

Stephen snorted, feeling a little delirious. Even though it was dark, he thought for a second he could see a cheeky grin on the engineer’s face. Probably just his head getting loopy.

“What about you?”

Stephen chuckled, he’s sure that he’s probably concussed but he found himself answering anyway. “Peter. Doe-eyed teen with the energy of a ten year old. I don’t know how I keep up with him sometimes.”

Tony huffed out a light laugh, finding himself agreeing with the doctor. Kids were a handful, and Tony was surprised at the pleasant feeling of at least having one thing to talk to Stephen about- with neither of them wanting to punch each other.

“He’s probably worried sick right now-“ Stephen continued, trying to keep himself awake. He felt all sorts of light-headed and he really, really couldn’t without getting an MRI.

“-the kid is gentle-hearted, he can kind of be a pushover if he knows that it would create less conflict than for him to fight back. You’d like him… even if you hate me, you would like Peter; everyone likes him.”

“You sound a little strange, Strange,” Tony joked- it wasn’t original at all but he was sure it would bug the doctor just a little.

“That’s because I hit my head when the whole place went down. There might be an internal bleed in my brain right now- so if you could do me a favour and keep talking to me so that I can stay awake, that would be great.”

Tony felt alarm flaring through his nerves.

“Are… are you going to die?” Tony asked apprehensively.

“Maybe, depends on how long we’re down here. But until then, I need to stay awake. So ask me something- don’t let me fall unconscious, if that’s not too much to ask.”

Tony swallowed the bile building in his throat, along with his fear and panic. As much as he hated the man, he really _really_ did not want him to die. He would go insane being stuck in the dark with a dead body not even five feet away from him.

Plus, Stephen had a kid, and despite what Stephen thought of him, he wasn’t about leave a child orphaned twice over.

"How’d you meet Peter?” Tony questioned, nervously.

“I met him when he came into… into Metro-General Hospital for a concussion after he supposedly hit his head falling down the stairs. I knew it was a lie- the kid couldn’t be more obvious about it. We checked him out, made sure he was alright but then he had a seizure.”

Tony listened attentively, wincing as Stephen’s words occasionally slurred or when there was an exceptionally long pause between words.

“After asking about it to one of the people that worked at the orphanage Peter was at, they informed us that he was decently prone to… prone to seizures, writing it off as epilepsy, but I had a hunch that it- it might be something else,” Stephen continued, his breathing a little heavier than before.

“I demanded an MRI and… and we found a tumour. It was benign but pressing up against his temporal lobe… it was the cause of his constant seizures… and…”

Stephen went silent, for just a second and Tony swore he could feel his heart wanting to clamour out of his throat.

“…Strange?”

Nothing.

His heart lurched and his lungs suddenly were too small to suck in anymore air, and he felt so utterly desperate for the man to respond.

“Strange. C’mon, this isn’t funny- so not the time to be funny, Strange.”

Silence.

“Strange… Stephen, hey- say something you asshole.”

He somehow kept a sob back but he couldn’t breathe, and the darkness was closing in on him- everything was too close, too tight, and he just needed some room to take a breath. He needed the shadows to take a few steps back, he needed them to back off so he could just _breathe_.

But they didn’t.

Instead, despite his pleading, they came closer, hovering in every corner- everywhere his eyes could see. Dark and black and haunting.

They reach out to caress him, to bring him closer into their depths and he doesn’t _want_ to. But he’s stuck and he can’t run away.

His eyes clenched close, yet they follow him inside his mind and they grabbed him, and he lets out a cry of anguish, allowing them to drag him down as he caught a mocking glimpse of light.

…

9:00am.

Peter didn’t typically pick up unknown numbers, his father always warning him that they could be scammers or people who wanted to hack into his phone (Stephen had always been dramatic but Peter listened anyway).

But this time, when an unknown number appeared on his screen- he prayed to god that it was the hospital calling- or the police- or someone to tell him his father hadn’t died alone, crushed under a building.

It was a scammer.

He stared at his phone, eyes blurred with exhaustion but he was afraid to miss a call. Ned’s mother had demanded the three of them stayed over, despite it being a school night- and much to Harley’s protests, he had stayed under the glare of Mrs. Leeds.

Currently, he was sitting, leaning against the wall of Ned’s room on the floor, looking through the window, the sun casting a shadow inside the room.

Ned’s mother had called the school early that morning, notifying them of the incident and that Peter, Ned, and Shuri wouldn’t be attending classes.

Ned slept in his own bed after Harley and Peter spent fifteen minutes refusing his offer of giving up the mattress. Both of them basically tried to tie the boy down before he gave up and went to sleep.

Harley was laying down next to him, curled into a shrimp position, facing opposite his direction. He wasn’t sure how the older teen could sleep or even remain calm in a situation like this.

“You’ll go blind if you keep staring at your phone like that nerd.”

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin at the whisper that came from next to him. “I thought you were asleep?” Peter asked, setting his phone aside to look over at the teen next to him.

“How am I supposed to sleep when my dad is stuck under a building?” Harley snapped back, sitting up to face Peter.

The younger could feel a sting of guilt jabbing at his stomach. Of course Harley wasn’t sleeping- how could Peter assume he didn’t care about his father as much as Peter cared about his own?

“Y-yeah…” Peter mumbled shamefully.

The room was quiet aside from Ned’s light snoring. Peter found comfort in knowing at least one person he cared about was 100% alive.

“We’re pretty similar- which is crazy. I can’t believe I’m even somewhat relatable to a stick like you,” Harley said, twiddling with his thumbs in his lap.

Peter giggled lightly, and if he thought about it, they basically were living the same lives.

“Yeah, we are, aren’t we? We were orphans, got adopted by rich dads,” Peter began listing things off, using his fingers to count.

“Our dads are both egotistical assholes to the public- our dads have both punched each other,” Harley joined in. Peter added two more fingers to his list.

“When are you graduating high school?” Harley asked.

“This year,” Peter replied, hoping he didn’t sound too pompous- he wasn’t the most popular person at his school at the moment.

“Dude! I graduated at sixteen too! I’m in my second year of university,” Harley said, grinning widely. Peter added one more finger.

“What school do you go to?” Peter asked excitedly.

“Harvard.”

The younger’s eyes lit up like stars, suddenly leaning in very closely and definitely encroaching on Harley’s personal space.

“I’m applying there!” Peter exclaimed gleefully, wincing after realizing how loud he had been. They both stare at Ned, who stirred for a few seconds before stilling again.

Peter exhaled in relief.

“I’ll show you around on your first day at campus then, wouldn’t want a stick like you to get lost,” Harley replied, somewhat pleased at the thought of having a friend there. He wasn’t much of a peoples person and it was getting kind of lonely, even if he was visiting his dad every weekend.

“Wow, you’re like an adult- can you drive? I’m learning right now but my dad won’t let me touch his cool cars, can you teach me? Maybe if I get better he’ll let me look at them without the fence-“

Harley slapped a hand over Peter’s mouth, whose volume only ever increased as he talked. The latter seemed to realize his mistake, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“…sorry…”

The elder cracked a small smile, about to tease the younger a little more when his phone rings.

He picked up almost immediately.

_”Hello, is this Harley Stark?”_

“Yes, it is. Who are you?”

_”My name is Zola Shepherd, I am a doctor at Metro-General hospital in New York. You are listed as Anthony Stark’s emergency contact- am I correct to presume that’s you?”_

His heart pounded, anticipation beating along with it. His lungs tightened and squeezed and for a second he forgot how to breathe.

“Yes, that’s me- have they found him? Is he okay? Is he… is he alive?”

The woman on the other line paused before replying.

_“Would you be able to come down to the hospital?- I can explain everything better here.”_

Harley heard his brain immediately jumping to the worst conclusion possible. He shook his head.

_’Proof and facts.’_

_’Proof and facts.’_

_’Proof and facts.’_

The words repeat in his head like a mantra as he steadied himself.

“Yes, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

…

9:35am.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a deep pool of chocolatey hazel, and that made him somewhat hungry- he couldn’t remember the last time he ate.

The second thing he saw was a mop of unruly brown hair and distinct sobs, very loud in his ear which made his head pound with the blood flowing through his veins.

“Peter…?”

The cries only intensified, upgrading to a nearly wailing level. He so desperately wanted to hug the boy that was somewhere to his left but he couldn’t find the strength to move.

“Y-You’re okay, you’re alive- oh my god, I thought you died and that I was going to be alone again and that you wouldn’t be here to let me drive your car and that I would have to eat alone on Taco Tuesday-“

“Dude, shut up- the guy had a concussion,” an unfamiliar chided, sounding oddly young and mildly irritated.

“Oh! Sorry- right yeah, I’m just so relieved,” Peter sputtered.

Stephen blinked. Once. Twice- wincing as his eyes grow accustomed to the light in the room. He tilted his head to the side to see his son, eyes red, with snot running down his nose and flushed cheeks. The look was so endearing that he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be crying like that?” Stephen asked, voice still slurred and slow, pulling himself up.

Scanning the room, he realized he was at Metro-General, in one of the V.I.P rooms. There were no doctors in the room, just his son, and… some random kid.

“Who’s your friend Pete?” Stephen asked, eyeing the kid warily. Something about his stance, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with analytical eye reminded him of someone.

“Oh! This is Harley, he saved me from being trampled by a crowd of people. His dad was also in the building when it…” Peter’s lip quivered slightly, not daring to look over at the shorter boy who subtly winced.

“You… you’re Stark’s kid aren’t you?” Stephen questioned, his brain vaguely remembering the conversation he had with the mentioned billionaire.

Harley visibly stiffened, ready to go on the defensive.

“Yeah, I am. Got a problem with that?” Harley snapped. Like father, like son. Both snarky little twats.

“Not at all. Your old man was telling me how worried he was about you,” Stephen calmly replied. Peter almost sighed in relief- he really didn’t his dad to go around picking fights with the child of his enemy.

“You talked to my dad? And y’all didn’t punch each other?” Harley asked in disbelief. Clearly the kid knew his father had no self control whatsoever.

“We were stuck together under that building. Kind of hard to punch a guy when you couldn’t even see him,” Stephen answered dryly.

He suddenly remembered that he passed out, leaving the aforementioned engineer by himself.

“Where is your father?” Stephen inquired, hating the worry in his voice. He might hate the guy but he sure hoped the god that the arrogant genius billionaire was not dead.

Harley swallowed, eyes shifting away from Stephen’s and Peter’s eyes.

“He’s still in surgery.”

Stephen almost regretted asking the moment he saw the hooded look of dread and concern in Harley’s blue eyes.

“I see.”

He didn’t know what else to say. The kid probably wasn’t a very big fan of him due to his father’s influence and he had never been great at comforting anyone but Peter.

A knock a the door distracted him from his thoughts, as he watched a familiar young doctor step into the room.

“Dr. Strange, I’m here to do a check up on you.”

Stephen smiled gently at the dark-skinned woman, a small swell of pride tugging at his heart.

“Dr. Shepherd, I see you’re no longer a bumbling intern,” Stephen said sarcastically, causing her to smile brightly.

“I see you’re still an asshole,” she quipped back easily, setting her chart down at the feet of his hospital bed.

“You know Dr. Shepherd?” Peter asked, his lively energy not lost by the situation.

“She was assigned to me as an intern while I was a second year resident here. I was so sure she was going to be gone within a week of knowing her- turns out I can be wrong about somethings,” Stephen replied, smirking at the younger doctor.

She returned the look, eyes flitting over to his stats.

“Woah! You must’ve known my dad for a long time,” Peter said, happily rushing over to her side to ask questions. He could only hope she wouldn’t reveal anything too embarrassing.

Stephen’s gaze returned to the other teen who had silently sat down on one of the armchairs in the corner of the room, looking blankly out the window.

“Hey, Stark Jr,” Stephen called.

The boy’s head snapped up at being called, eyes narrowing at him.

“What?” He replied, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face. Stephen could feel a pang of sympathy resonating in his stomach.

“Come here.”

He pointed to the chair Peter had previously occupied.

Harley tentatively dragged his feet over, plopping down on the chair with a thud.

Stephen paused for a moment- trying to figure out what he was going to say to the boy whose father could die.

“Stark and I were stuck down there for a really long time,” he started, amused as the boy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Harley snarked.

“Stop being such a brat for a second, I’m trying to be nice,” Stephen said dryly.

That had shut him up.

“Anyway, we didn’t talk at all for most of that time. Until I figured out I had a concussion, which at that point, I needed something to distract me and keep me awake.”

“The only thing your father and I could talk about was our children without arguing. He told me that if he could, he would give the world to a brat like you,” Stephen tried to gauge Harley’s reaction.

It didn’t show.

“I’m not sure how much comfort this will be to you, but if he’s anything like me- he’ll fight like hell just so you won’t be alone again.”

The teen looked stunned by Stephen’s attempt at comfort (it wasn’t that bad, was it?).

Slowly he nodded his head, not knowing how to reply. Although he didn’t tell the adult, it did make him feel just a tad bit brighter.

“Thanks,” Harley said slowly. It was odd seeing the kid looking a bit shy- from the moment Stephen had met him, he radiated Tony Stark’s energy and he hadn’t expected the kid to have a softer side.

“You’re welcome. You can keep Peter company until your father is out of surgery, I don’t mind,” Stephen offered.

The kid nodded again, at a lost for words.

“Doctor Dad, Zola is taking me to the cafeteria for food, can I go?”

Stephen nodded, a calm feeling washing over them as Zola herded the boys out of the room.

He let his head hit the pillow once again, concentrating on the smooth systematic beeping of the monitor.

Concern filled him, thinking about his friends who were at the gala, Christine, and Tilda. Karl and Wong had also been there- he could only hope none of them were dead.

…

10:02am.

“Your dad isn’t as big of a dick as I thought he would be,” Harley said as him and Peter sat in the cafeteria, poking at his jello. Peter looked up from his egg sandwich, mouth full with both eyebrows raised. Shuri giggled at the suddenness of the statement.

Ned's mother had driven the three of them to the hospital when Dr. Shepherd had called. T'challa, Shuri's brother had gotten away almost completely unscathed. They didn't talk about how Tony Stark was still in surgery.

“Yuf tufft mah dud wuz a duck?” Peter asked, mouth still filled with food. He jolted when Shuri kicked his shin, hard, for talking with food in his mouth. And an egg sandwich no less.

“Okay, first of all, gross- did no one ever teach you manners? And yeah, I totally thought your dad sucked- but I may have been biased, y’know, since he punched my dad and all,” Harley said, scrunching his face in disgust as Peter took another bite of the egg sandwich.

Thankfully, the younger teen swallowed this time before speaking again. “Yeah, that’s fair. I didn’t think your dad was very cool either,” Peter replied.

Harley rolled his eyes. “I guess both our dads are more _cool_ than we thought.” Peter nodded excitedly, before going back to eating his sandwich. Gross.

“I’m so very glad my brother has some decency compared to some of you colonizers. He would never attack someone like that in public,” Shuri commented, ignoring the look of pure disdain Harley was giving her. He seemed to know when to pick his battles though, accepting the statement with ease. 

It had been nearly seventeen hours since his father had gone into surgery- which is terrifying amount of time to wait. He had emailed his professors about the situation and planned to make up the lectures and assignments on a future date, not that it would be difficult for him to catch up.

“Hawey?”

Peter Strange was still speaking with his mouth full and it took all of Harley’s strength not to gag. He shoved a napkin in the younger teen’s face so he didn’t have to look at the chewed food.

“You are disgusting,” Shuri muttered, helping Peter wipe the stray food from his face.

He blinked as two female doctors- still donning their cap and masks made a beeline for him and Peter. Harley could feel fear prickling under his skin, the nauseous twist of his stomach, the sudden light-headed anxiety that slapped him in the face.

“Mr. Stark?” One of the doctors asked.

Harley nodded numbly, finding himself unable to correct them. _Mr. Stark is my father._

Shuri quickly excused herself to go back to her brother’s hospital room, half expecting Peter to be following her. He didn’t.

“Mr. Stark?” One of the doctors asked.

Harley nodded numbly, finding himself unable to correct them. _Mr. Stark is my father._

They had taken him into an empty room, along with Peter who invited himself along. Harley didn’t object- he actually felt Peter’s presence to be grounding.

After being sat down in the empty meeting room, Harley raised a question brow at the doctors, who looked at each other once before nodding.

The taller, black haired surgeon smiled gently at him. “Your father has made it through surgery.”

His heart rammed itself against his ribcage, relief flooding through him, although he still wore an incredulous look on his face.

The shorter, ebony-skinned doctor frowned.

“We wouldn’t encourage you to get your hopes up just yet. Your father is currently resting in the ICU. It is crucial that he makes it through the night… which there is a low percentage of.”

Harley watched her colleague give her a side-eye- clearly content with just informing Harley of his father’s survival through surgery.

“We had our neurosurgeon and ortho surgeon on-call take a look at his legs- they did the best they could, creating essentially the equivalent of metal bones for him, but we won’t know if he’ll regain full function of his lower body until he wakes up,” the shorter doctor informed.

The panic slowly sunk in again. “Can- can I see him?”

He hated how his voice quivered, and the sympathetic look he received from Peter. Harley didn’t need to be coddled- he had dealt with the disappearance of a father before, he could deal with it again.

Except he couldn’t.

His biological father had been an asshole- a drunkard, abusive- and _asshole._ Harley had spent most of his childhood protecting his mother and sister from the man. He’d spent fifteen years of his life living in fear of the one day his father lost it.

It didn’t take very long for that day to come.

And now he had no mother. He had no sister. All Harley had now was Anthony Stark.

Harley had Tony to go raid the cereal section of Walmart with, he had Tony to teach him the principles of thermonuclear dynamics and the basics of A.I coding. He had the late night cramming within the comforting walls of Tony’s labs during the weeks of midterms and final exams, both chugging gloriously awful tasting coffee while exchanging quick jabs. He had reckless driving lessons in Tony’s favourite neon orange Audi R8- which more or less ended with the latter being pulled over for speeding. Tony who had thrown out all his alcohol after noticing Harley’s silent trauma when he drank. Tony who sobered up completely for him.

Harley had a father- one that was barely hanging on the thread of life.

He didn’t register the comforting hand on his back as he stared blankly at the single most important figure in his life. Tony Stark was not meant to look like that. The wires and monitors surround him- the tube that was shoved down his throat, _breathing_ for him.

That wasn’t his dad.

Harley wrenched his eyes away, fleeing from the room to the nearest bathroom. He keeled over the toilet, wretching inside the toilet bowl. Nothing came out except his saliva that dripped from his mouth. He dry heaved until his breathing was erratic.

“Harley!”

He couldn’t hear Peter’s concerned cry for him as the young teen found him in the stall. Harley found minimal comfort in Peter’s gentle hands on his shoulder as his stomach flipped and turned.

…

12:14pm.

Peter wasn’t the best at comforting people. Actually, scratch that- he was terrible at comforting people.

He concluded that it was just how insanely _awkward_ he was. His father had described him as jittery and just constantly on drugs. Peter had unceremoniously whined at his grinning father at that comment.

So when Harley was now sitting in the corner of the ICU looking so _empty_ at the body of Tony Stark, he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Peter got the sense that the older teen wasn’t a favourite of being touched- so physical comfort was a no-go. Harley also looked like he was off in another dimension so Peter surmised that talking was also a no-go.

Peter didn’t know what the hell to do. So he went to the one person he always asked for advice.

“Doctor Dad?”

Stephen looked up reading his own medical chart, skimming quickly through some pages, reading more thoroughly others. “Hmm?”

“Mr. Stark isn’t doing so well,” Peter said after giving his phrasing some thought. He wasn’t sure how much Harley wanted other people to know about the extent of his father’s injuries.

“I suspected so,” Stephen replied thoughtfully, dropping his charts onto his lap, giving his kid his full attention.

“I want to help, but I’m not a doctor… so I can only be Harley’s friend. He looks really depressed, which is expected, but I want to comfort him, but I’m really bad at it. Like, I can’t do that whole ‘reading body language’, and I don’t want to offend him,” Peter started, slowly building himself up to a ramble.

Stephen cut him off before he went too off the rails. “What if it was me?”

Peter’s eyes widened comically. “Huh?”

His father cleared his throat. “What if instead of Harley and Mr. Stark- it was me and you. What would you want Harley to do?” Stephen asked, endearment showing through his eyes.

He allowed the question to fully sink him- taking in every facial expression that Peter went through. The brown-haired kid suddenly brightened, a light bulb clicking on in his head.

“I think I know what to do,” Peter said happily as he jumped up from his chair. He was running towards the door of the room. He shoved the wooden door open before turning around and running back towards Stephen.

Peter planted a small innocent kiss on his father’s cheek- much to Stephen’s delight. “Thanks Doctor Dad!”

And he was bolting out the door.

“Peter!”

The kid skidded to a halt, almost tipping over due to the speed he was going. The doe-eyed teen whipped around at the sound of his name.

“Respect boundaries, okay?”

The teen nodded eagerly, ready to run off again.

“And only doctors and nurses get to run in hospitals!” Stephen shouted pointlessly. The kid was already gone and Stephen was sure that he fully ran back to the ICU. He was going to have many irritated nurses on his ass later.

Zola was walking into the room, looking over her shoulder amusedly at the scurrying teen down the hall.

“If I didn’t know any better, he’d look like an intern running away from scut work,” she joked. Stephen laughed- wincing at the way it rang through his head.

“The kid came to me asking how to comfort someone,” Stephen explained as she picked up his chart from his lap. She smiled at the thought.

“If I remember correctly- you have horrible bedside manner,” she reminded. He rolled his eyes. “He seemed to have figured it out though,” she continued.

Stephen smiled softly, allowing the smile to reach his eyes before they went cold again.

“Have the first responders found anyone else?” He asked slowly, unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer.

Zola looked at him hesitantly. She knew he was still healing and she didn’t want the news to put more of a strain on him. His eyes narrowed and she knew she had already given too much away. The damn man was much to perceptive for his own good.

“Who is it?” Stephen asked, his voice cracking.

“You’re healing Stephen- you need to let-“

“Tell. Me.”

Zola sighed, relenting. She never did well under the glare of Stephen Strange, and she was still used to following his orders from her years as an intern.

“Half an hour ago, they- they…” she trailed off.

Was it devoted Karl?- a man dedicated to his craft and followed the strongest code of ethics and morals Stephen had ever seen. Or maybe it was Wong? The stern man that had survived internship and residency along with Stephen. And there was Christine, oh _Christine_ … a loyal friend that could take all of Stephen’s bullshit and throw it back at him twice as hard.

“Dr. Tilda Swinton passed away… in the collapse of the building.”


End file.
